


Starstruck

by cloudsarefluffy



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Celebrity, Alternate Universe - Human, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst and Humor, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bad Jokes, Bad Puns, Bottom Castiel, Complete, Cute Castiel, Domestic Castiel/Dean Winchester, Eventual Happy Ending, Feels, Finished, Fluff, Funny, Gentle Kissing, Gentle Sex, Happy Ending, Happy Sex, Human Castiel, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, I Tried, Journalist!Cas, Love Confessions, M/M, Minor Angst, New Year's Resolutions, New Years, New York, Not Suitable/Safe For Work, OTP Feels, Oblivious Castiel, POV Castiel, Slow Build, Smut, Snow, Snowball Fight, Sorry Not Sorry, Swearing, Sweet, Wedding Fluff, Worth It, celeb!dean, includes actual locations, minor foreplay, not much angst, sweet smut, there really isn't tags for this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-22
Updated: 2013-09-26
Packaged: 2017-12-27 09:10:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 16,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/977007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cloudsarefluffy/pseuds/cloudsarefluffy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel is a journalist working for a magazine called Angel Weekly and trying to get the biggest hit he can. Maybe this little career helper is a celebrity named Dean Winchester- and maybe there's more in store for the both of them than they expect.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Why hello, there!  
> Another Destiel fic to add onto this website. (:  
> This one is mostly focused on fluff and the eventual events of smut.  
> No idea how we're going to get there- but we will. OH WE WILL.
> 
> (French meanings at end- it's only a name so if you want to know it's there.)
> 
> NOW GET TO READING DAMMIT. ;D

* * *

 

Castiel Novak was an aspiring writer, trying to get the latest scoop and the best stories. Most people at his magazine barely even turned an eye towards him and thought that he hated it- but Castiel was fine with it, actually. It just meant he'd stand out more when he got the best article published with his name under the title.

Most thought that was actually the goal Castiel was shooting for- when actually it was becoming the CEO of  _Angel Weekly_  (recommended by my best friend Sharon) instead of some random intern. He'd already had to write several bogus articles, so he should at least get a shot at the headlines.

Right now, Castiel was walking along the crowded sidewalks of New York City, cars honking and stopped on the road beside him. It was warm enough today for him to wear his favorite suit, his tan trench coat over his arm as he walked.

The city was what drew him here. The bustling life, the people, the way the sun glints off the windows. At first, it was a wonderful sight. So many things to see and take in, to process. But as Castiel reaches his five year mark of being a New Yorker- the city loses its exotic flare. Now, it's just skyscrapers that are too tall and people who are too slow or are always in Castiel's way.

He enters his office building, putting his hands into his dress pants pockets and sighing. The elevator is packed, too packed for how he usually likes it to be. Castiel's desk is up on the thirty-fifth floor, so there's no chance in hell he's going to take the stairs there. He piles himself into the elevator and presses the bottom through the crowd of people.

Castiel just wanted to hurry up, today was a big day for himself and his job.

Chuck was calling a meeting, other writers lining the table and holding their notebooks out and chewing the end of their pens. This was a usual habit amongst them, along with long nights filled with countless coffee mugs and editing beyond their scheduled hours. In the end though, it was worth it if you got the story of a lifetime.

"Alright- so we're going to try and get some celebrity interviews in. _Us_  already got one in with Robert Downey Jr so we're gonna have to up our game. I've gone around, put some words in and guess who's just agreed to do an interview with us?"

"What?" They all asked in unison.

Chuck smiles, brushing some invisible and probably nonexistent lint of his tailored suit, "Dean Winchester has agreed to let us talk to him."

All the girls in the room nearly screamed, biting their lips and squealing. Most of the guys only saw the opportunity for a really good article. Castiel only wrote it down.

Dean Winchester was an out-of-nowhere hit, literally popping into the list of well known names and everyone taking to him immediately. Castiel remembers when the first photos of him appeared in other magazines, and he had to admit Dean was kind of a good looking man- okay better than good looking- but Castiel figured Dean was probably like most celebrities. Self-centered and egotistical brainless sensation. He'd probably tell off whoever was going to do the interview with enough curse words to fill a dictionary with them. He'd become so famous for playing a single role in a small-budget movie called _Turning Pages_  that landed him a place to walk on the red carpet- no one expected it, especially the man himself.

Castiel sighed, instead of freaking out or seeing the possibility of interviewing him, only tried to think about the other possible leads he might follow.

Chuck cleared his throat, all the noise dying down into silence.

"Our next big story is with big time movie-star hit Meg Masters. She recently played in  _To the Stars_  that was a box-office smash. She's agreed to do a five minute interview with one of us as her schedule is quite full with new offers and such. Make it quick, simple, and worth the money I'm paying you to get this story right."

Castiel had heard a lot about Meg Masters, just like Dean Winchester. He knew about how she started up in New Hampshire before working her way up town through the circuit of leading roles. She was more of a gradual progression in her fame timeline, more graceful and based off her talents. Castiel was happy her name was listed, and found the interview he was going to chase.

Chuck called the meeting off, most having a quick word with him before leaving out of the door. As Castiel was leaving, Chuck called him over and eyeing the budding reporter as he walked up to him.

"Yes sir?"

Chuck smiled, patting Castiel in the shoulder, "You're a good kid, you know your stuff and your articles are worded perfectly. I'm going to give you the shot of your career."

"Really?" Castiel felt hope rise in his chest. This was his chance, the opportunity of a lifetime about to be placed right at his feet.

_Meg Masters here I come!_

"I want you to interview Dean Winchester."

Castiel felt his heart cringe, the door leading to his best headline ever slamming in his face, "Oh..."

Chuck gripped his shoulder a little tighter, "Hey, this isn't a bad opportunity and you know it. I figured you were probably leaning towards Meg a little more- but honestly? Dean's offered up as much time as needed, while Meg said we could only do five minutes because she doesn't want to deal with annoying questions."

"She said that?"

Chuck nodded, "Afraid she's a full time bitch who barely cares about anyone but herself. She only did the interview with us because we're ' _a small magazine and barely anybody reads our stuff_ '."

"But we're the third top selling magazine in New York-"

"Doesn't matter to her. Against herself, everything's second best and always will be. Dean's multitudes nicer than her, and I've got a knack you two will really hit it off."

Castiel swallows, "All right, I'll do it... I hope you're right."

Chuck snorts, "I know I am- I run this place right? Look- just act natural and everything will be fine. I'll tell Dean you're the one who's gonna be talking to him."

Castiel leaves, taking a slow taxi cab home. It's an endless blur of people and yellow, cars that congest the streets so bad that Castiel usually walks home. But he's tired, and it's pouring- and dammit if he's gonna be staying up late tonight.

His interview with Dean Winchester is tomorrow, so he's got to be in top notch condition and have his questions already prepared. Although its not exactly what he wanted- it was better than a paragraph about each zodiac reading for the week.

The cab pulls up, brakes screeching and the rain pounding on the metal. Castiel threw the money at the driver, yanking up his trench coat over his head and somehow managing to sprint to the overhang without bumping into anyone. He could hear the soft patters of feet in the rainwater as he buzzed into his apartment.

It wasn't much, nothing in New York with his paycheck really was. The paint was faded, the furniture bought from a closing sale at some long-gone retailer. It only looked so nice because Castiel kept it clean. What else was he supposed to do when words wouldn't forge themselves in his mind?

The squeaking of his shoes announced his arrival, his cat jogging up to him and mewling loudly. Her name was Misty, after her dark coat that no matter how dry she really was always managed to look or seem damp. Castiel supposed it was her love of getting in the tub after his showers and slipping in the toilet whenever she drunk out of it. She had bowls, but she refused to even acknowledge them and their purpose.

"Hey girl," Castiel bends down and scratches her head, "got a new lead today. Guess who's seeing Dean Winchester in the morning?"

Misty meowed, rubbing herself against Castiel's pants and leg.

Castiel sighs, going over to his small and worn desk, flipping open his laptop- probably his most expensive possession- and opened up a tab.

In the search engine, he typed: _Dean Winchester._

He did a little research, looking through photos and other interviews with Dean in them. He stuck to the basics, rooting out questions Dean had already answered and avoided the all too obvious ones. In the end, the word document stared at Castiel. The cursor is blinking and the page is so vastly empty- too empty. He'd start a sentence, then erase it. Frustrated sighs escape his mouth, brows furrowed and hands rubbing his temple.

"Why is this so hard?!" Castiel snaps.

Misty mewls beside him, rubbing up against his leg. Castiel picks her up, rubbing her arched spine as she licks his face and calms him down. These questions might be tough, but they were nowhere near impossible.

"Chuck said to act natural," he sets Misty down, "so let's say Dean is just an average Joe... Like we accidentally run into each other and start talking. Like in a coffee shop- I dunno. But they have to at least be related to hi and maybe his work..."

He writes, the words flowing from his brain to his fingers and onto the word document. Pride fills Castiel as he sees the questions on the screen. He's sure to accomplish something at the very least. The time ticks by, the clock reading nine when Castiel calls it.

**...**

Showering doesn't help. His stomach is in knots and he's sure he's going to at least vomit twice before he ever steps outside his door. He was hoping his anxiety would just wane over time, but it seemed with every passing minute it only grew more monstrous, threatening to eat him alive whole.

"Get a grip on yourself- damn!"

Coffee only settles his nerves in the slightest way. He's got the address to Dean's condo memorized in his brain- but even now he's sure he might even fuck that up and say the wrong number or something like he always does when the pressure cracks him. By the end, he was praying in the taxi that he wasn't going to screw up his only shot at making it big in a too competitive city.

When Castiel sees the door to Dean Winchester's condo, his breath is barely entering and leaving his lungs, that his heart is beating so loud in his ears that Dean might confuse it as him knocking on the damn door. Castiel tries fixing his navy tie, the one he knows that no matter how much he tries to prevent it, always winds up crooked. He braces himself, swallowing the huge lump that's formed in his throat that he thinks could be big enough to block his airway. Castiel presses his knuckles to the door and knocks.

In seconds, it opens. Castiel's heart is beating in his ears and he feels like he might faint any second if he doesn't sit down or run away- but he's got to do this. This interview is too important to the magazine and his career to just ditch at the last second because his balls seemed to get lost on the taxi ride over.

Dean Winchester stands there, and immediately Castiel is awestruck. He's gorgeous, more so than in any of the pictures Castiel has seen floating around randomly in the last month and in his web search laast night. He's positive he's got eyes that can triumph over emeralds or a yellow-green jewel on a bad day and a smile so white that Castiel thinks bleach couldn't even get it that way. Everything about him is just- _perfect._

"You must be from  _Angel Weekly_ ," his voice makes Castiel almost jump, its just as incredible as the rest of him, "Castiel- right?"

The writer nods, hoping his throat can swallow right and he won't end up looking like a total fuck up, "Y-Yes, I am."

If Dean heard the stammer, he decides to ignore it, opening the door further, "Come on in, make yourself at home."

Castiel takes in the condo, and at the very least, he's floored. It's sleek, modern, and probably worth thousands more than what Castiel makes in a year. Everywhere is furniture that looks like it was custom made from the finest mahogany money can buy, matching the flooring that leads to enormous windows. It gives a view of the New York skyline that you only see in movies, making Castiel's street viewpoint from his ground floor apartment look like utter shit- which it was.

"I'll get us some wine."

Castiel sits down, his fingers shaking and fiddling with his tie again in nervous habit. The couch he's sitting on could be made from chocolate it's so fine and shiny, and Castiel debates on if it's going to melt and he's going to sink in while he waits. In moments, Dean comes back from his kitchen, placing two clear glasses and a bottle of wine on the table. When the name  _L' or Rogue_  appears before the reporter printed on the side he nearly faints.

"Isn't that wine worth several thousands per bottle? ..."

Dean chuckles and nods his head, the writer stiffening in his seat, "Yeah, but that's because they literally put pure gold flakes in it- for some weird reason... This was a gift from an awards ceremony from a co-star. It's not really my taste, I prefer a really good beer every now and then."

Castiel eyes every single drop get poured into the glass, a shine from a flake of gold appearing every now and then. His blood is pumping in his veins, and if Castiel can make it through this interview without a heart attack- than miracles do in fact, exist. He grabs his wine glass, staring at how it sloshes unevenly as he brings it slowly to his lips. As it runs down his throat, he can understand why famous people buy it on a whim.

"So," Dean grabs his drink and sits on an exact copy of the couch Castiel is sitting on across from him, crossing his legs, "onto our questions then."

Castiel nearly fumbles, grabbing his notebook out and unsheathing the tip of his pen, "Oh um- what were you doing before  _Turning Pages_?"

"I was in Lawrence, Kansas. It's a small town- one that it's common for everyone to grow up with each other. My job at the time was literally being a server at the town restaurant. It wasn't much- but it paid the bills."

"Okay," Castiel scribbles Dean's response down, "How did the role of Alex Varnes come to you?"

Dean smiles again, "Well, while I was in high school I did drama for the hell of it. Turns out, I impressed a few people and that's how Mike heard about me. One day, out of the blue, he just turns up asking if I wanted a shot at the big times or some hope raising thing that most people would jump for."

"Obviously your response was yes."

He chuckles then, biting his lip a little, "Not exactly- no… I didn't want it at first. I didn't think acting was my thing at the time, that I wasn't any good. It started out as a class grade and remained that way until I graduated and it didn't matter anymore."

Castiel tilts his head, "So how did Mike convince you to take the part?"

"He made me read the script." Dean shrugs, bringing the glass to his lips for a second and continuing, "I connected with Alex in some way, felt like I could build his character or some actor nonsense. Either way, I was onboard from there onwards."

The pen in Castiel's hand scribbles out the words, "There were rumors that you and your co-star might of had a fling or connection on set- is that true?"

"If I met the person of my dreams on a movie set- than I'd be the luckiest man in the world. But no, Jess and I are friends and nothing more. It took forever to film the kissing scenes because we kept laughing. I'm sure most of the blooper reel is just us giggling like little girls and messing up the romance scenes."

"So you're not in a relationship?"

Dean's brow quirks, and for a moment, the writer in Castiel leaves his head. Did he just ask Dean Winchester- a man who looks like he's  _fucking photoshopped_  in person- if he were _single_? Of course he isn't! The man could make girls swoon with the bat of an eyelash. Castiel wouldn't be surprised if Dean just said he had many relationships or hook ups- because most celebrities did. They'd see someone, have a little fun, and then leave like they never met or saw each other. So the cycle of fame went and remained.

Dean narrows his eyes just a fraction, his gaze unwavering and eyes set firmly on Castiel and the writer is sure he can see him freaking out mentally, "Currently, no. I haven't found the right- partner, so to say."

"Any ideas for one?" Castiel is praying his swallow in inaudible and that he can pull through this, that he can calm himself down before the interview makes him jump out of the windows and to the pavement below. He needs to pull himself together. Chuck would surely fire him if he fucked up.

He blushes as Dean smirks, "I do love black hair and blue eyes."

The sentence makes Castiel fidget a little. He doesn't know if Dean's just being honest or his brain is fucking with him more under pressure. He was confident it was the latter.

"A-Anything else you just want to randomly add?"

"They have to love coffee, be okay with animals, and most of all- be able to make me laugh."

Castiel is holding onto the pen so hard he's sure it might snap any moment, he forces himself to bring his gaze to Dean's calm one, "Laugh?"

Dean chuckles, "Yes- it's a must have on my checklist. Do you know how many people don't know a good joke when they see one?"

"Not many I'm assuming."

"Exactly!" Dean takes another sip of the wine, "You have a sense of humor right Cas?"

Castiel is stunned for a moment at the nickname, instead, he continues on, "Once I wrote a review on Jason DeRulo's album that he released a few months ago."

Dean leans forward in anticipation, "What did you say?"

"Well-" Castiel collects his thoughts, "I said it must take special type of self-centered person to sing their own name into a song- as if anyone wanted to steal his shit music in the first place."

Dean starts laughing, his shoulders shaking and a smiling wide on his face, clapping his hands together to praise Castiel's opinion, "Agreed- that was perfect!"

"Thank you."

Dean smile doesn't leave, and Castiel blushes and has to remember that he has to complete this interview instead of joking about shitty musicians. Dean said he'd give him unlimited time- but that didn't mean Castiel wanted to spend a lot of it questioning him back and forth. Besides, who liked that happening anyways? He was sure Dean was growing tired of him.

The rest of the interview went a little smoother than Castiel had expected. Dean would laugh and smile and answer truthfully in short answers, which was a blessing because Castiel still couldn't write straight still. The only thing Castiel didn't expect was for Dean to ask for his notebook for a second. He hoped the celebrity ignored his little doodles in the corner while figuring out questions. Instead, Dean uses the pen and adds a little what Castiel already has written. A few more blushes and stutters later, Castiel was walking towards the door and thanking Dean for giving him the time out of his day for him.

"No- it's perfectly fine, Cas." Dean opens the door, "You can call or text whenever you have anymore questions, or if you want to for no reason- I'll answer."

Before Castiel can say anything, Dean winks and shuts the door.

The reporter just stands there bewildered for a moment. Did Dean Winchester just- ...?  
Impossible.

As he's walking back towards the cab, Castiel's flustered and messing with his tie like his life depends on it. His head is pounding and he feels like his balance is off and he's swaying. If his interviews after this were going to affect him so severely then maybe he'd have to quit or just stay within the range of the horoscope safe haven. As he gets into the taxi, he looks over as to what Dean added.

He nearly fainted when he sees Dean's number scrawled up in the top corner saying ' _Text me anytime you want. -DW_ '.

 

* * *

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another ch., in ONE DAY NO LESS.  
> LOVE ME. (;
> 
> Anyways, there's a little sad in this ch., not much. More of Castiel writing of feels for rationality.
> 
> ENJOY!~

* * *

 

Castiel sits at his desk, typing up the interview with Dean Winchester into the word document. He fidgets in his chair, the number missing from the top corner of his notebook. Castiel wasn’t stupid, and walking into his office with Dean’s number in a room full of inspiring writers and die-hard-fangirls, it wasn’t the wisest idea to leave it there. Instead, it was locked away in Castiel’s apartment so well, that he thought he might even lose it himself.

He starts to type up the next paragraph when his phone starts to ring. He looks the unknown number and scowls, instead of letting it ring, he answers.

“ _I think I have some things to add to my answers_.”

Castiel almost drops his phone onto the floor, but thankfully his desk was underneath his palms, and as he flails to grab it, he can Dean chuckle over the line. He quickly presses it to his ear again, “D-Dean?”

“ _Yeah, it’s me Cas_.” Castiel almost swallows wrong at the nickname again, “ _I just wanted to help you edit some stuff- how’s about six sound? Do you think you can make it over to my place again by that time?_ ”

Castiel is speed walking towards the stairwell, because he knows if anyone hears who he’s talking to- he’ll never get his phone back, “That works. How did you get my number?”

“ _I found it on your magazine’s website. Also- I researched you_.”

As the door shuts behind Castiel, he’s glad he has something to lean on. His knees buckle but thankfully his words are stronger than he expects them to be, “You searched me?”

Dean chuckles, and even through the shit quality of Castiel’s phone it makes him nearly trip as he walks forward away from the door, “ _Yeah- I did. I also found some of your other stories. Seems I’ve been reading your stuff for a while now. I always loved the horoscopes, looked forward to them every week. I never found out who wrote them till now. Seems like you have a sense of humor_.”

“Thanks… Wait- if you found that… did you find… the research paper?”

“ _I did_.”

Castiel hits his head against the wall of painted brick, “Dammit.”

Dean laughs, the sound of him shuffling something playing grittily through the phone’s speaker, “ _Really though, Cas? You decided to write a paper on that?_ ”

When Castiel was in high school, his biology teacher decided that their final be a paper on anything that was related to science. Castiel hated his teacher and most of the kids in his class, so as a joke and insult to the teacher- he came up with the funniest thing he could write about. Apparently, his undeveloped maturity and childlike humor thought barbed cat penises were the best thing he could force his teacher to read about. In the end, it back fired- naturally- because his biology teacher turned it into some scientific paper competition and Castiel won first place. He hated that more than anything.

“ _My favorite line from it was, ‘I am positive the females were not consulted on that.’_. ” Dean laughs again, “ _Really Cas- out of all the things to write-?_ ”

Castiel has to wait to answer because Dean is laughing so hard, “It was a joke, okay? It just so happens that people took it seriously…”

After a few more chuckles, Dean just sighs happily, “ _I can see why, despite the topic it was really well written_.”

“Thank you.” Castiel swallows and lets the question he’s been thinking go, “Am I wasting your time or something?”

“ _Of course not! It isn’t sacred, Cas. Besides, I am the one who asked you to come join me_.”

The writer sighs, “That is true. I’ll see you at six.”

“ _Later, Cas_.”

Dean hangs up and Castiel tries to catch up his breath and he tries to process all that has happened in the past twenty-four hours. He walks back into the building, fixing his suit and acting as if he was not just on the phone with Dean Winchester- and no, Dean did not just invite him back over to his condo. Even though there probably isn’t anyone paying him a lick of attention, Castiel feels like his skin is on fire and there is secretly hundreds of pairs of eyes tracking his back as he makes his way to his desk.

Today was going to kill him.

When the taxi pulls up once again to the curb of Dean’s building, Castiel is sure that it will. He’s dressed just as professionally as before- because this is business and nothing else. Dean is going to correct things with his interview and not talk to Castiel about anything else, he’s certain. His heart is thumping against his ribs as the elevator dings up as it passes each floor upwards. His mouth is dry as for the second time in his life- however hard and troubling it is to process- Castiel Novak is knocking on Dean Winchester’s door.

Dean opens it up around the second knock, his smile wide and he pushes it back, “Hey Cas.”

“Hello, Dean.”

The writer walks in, and you can imagine how floored he still is. No- it’s not because the apartment is just as beautiful, which it is. No, it’s from how Dean changed it from yesterday. The lights are a warm, soft yellow, making the room glow as though it was lit with candles. There’s two bottles of beer on the coffee table now, and two plates of well-cooked pasta. As if Castiel’s body had a mind of it’s own, his stomach growls at the sight.

“Oh- sorry…” Castiel blushes.

“No-” Dean laughs, shutting the door, “it’s completely fine. Take a seat, the bread’s just about done.”

So Castiel does as Dean tells him, walking into the living room once again but stopping before he sits on the couch. It’s the view that gets him to stop in his tracks. Now that the sun is going below the horizon, the lights of New York are beginning to shimmer, dancing like the very few stars that can make it out even on the clearest of nights. Castiel walks forward, a little cautious because it’s a forty-floor drop if that glass cracks- so he goes as close as he’s comfortable with. A smile appears on his face as he looks towards the city bustling below him- and for the first time in a while- Castiel remembers why he fell in love with this place.

“I know… It’s beautiful.” Dean’s voice comes from behind him, and Castiel jumps.

Dean chuckles but walks up beside him, “Didn’t mean to scare you, Cas… Anyways, it’s pretty- like a small version of a night sky from the ground in some human way. I like it- but I prefer real stars if I’m honest.”

“Really?”

Dean smiles as he sees Castiel tilt his head in confusion, “Yes, really. New York’s fine, an okay city full of people with big dreams and high hopes. But some nights when I’m up here I realize how alone I am in this apartment. It’s too large for one person, and this view- well it kinda makes you feel small, doesn’t it? It’s a big city I know, I also am aware that I can walk outside and be surrounded by people- but that doesn’t mean I enjoy it. I miss privacy, I miss just going outside and knowing I can look up and not see buildings towering over me. It makes me miss Lawrence sometimes.”

Castiel is quiet, not only because Dean is opening up to him, but because Dean is actually acting like a person- he’s telling Castiel about how he feels and how New York isn’t his perfect choice of exact living- and it hits home. Because that’s exactly how Castiel feels.

“I understand,” he looks towards Dean for a moment and back down to the city below, “I used to be entranced by this place. I dreamed about it when I was little and I thought that if I made it here everything would just- click. Now I’ve been here for half a decade and I still have the same shit job and apartment to boot, and I just don’t feel the same anymore about this place. I don’t feel like I’m in some type of movie where the underdog becomes a hero, or the person who gets the happy ending- I’m just average. Maybe it’s a little depressing to think so- but in a city full of so many people aiming for the same thing- that’s what you become. Normal.”

Dean is about to reply when the oven dings in the kitchen, and he apologizes and goes to get it. It leaves Castiel some time to process what has just happened and all that was said. Did Dean Winchester really just listen to him talk about how he felt? He bites his lip as he hears plates being set on the coffee table once again.

“Here we go!” Dean smiles widely, “All ready to eat! Made it myself, too!”

Castiel walked over, sitting down on the couch and chuckling, “I must tell you- acting may not be your only talent.”

“I did work in a cafe, remember?”

“As a waiter.”

“Ouch!” Dean laughs, grabbing a fork and taking his seat beside Castiel. It nearly makes the writer swallow the delicious pasta wrong.

Dean pops the caps off of the beer and Castiel blurts out a question, “What is it you wanted to change with the interview?”

He looks over, quirking a brow and smiling, “Hmm… May I see the journal?”

Castiel nods, grabbing his bag and getting out his notebook and hands it over to Dean. He opens it on his lap, the pages open to Castiel’s view as he skims over the questions and answers. He begins to turn the page when he realizes the top corner he’d written his number on is missing, and Castiel thinks for a millisecond he smiles. The writer watches as he keeps reading and finishes.

“I don’t see anything that needs changing.”

Castiel’s stomach drops. Why was he here then? Dean said the interview was good enough- and just when Castiel thought maybe, just maybe, for once second Dean was actually talking to him- he squashes it like a damn bug. He finds the next forkful of pasta hard to swallow.

“What else in your bag, Cas?”

The question catches the writer off guard, but he pulls up his bag anyways, “Nothing much.”

Dean looks through it, finding a sketch journal and setting it aside. He finds pictures of Misty and he smiles widely and asks about her. It makes Castiel feel a little awkward, to explain to a celebrity about how fucked up his cat is back at his shit apartment- but hey, life doesn’t make sense. It’s after he finds a few more trinkets he returns to the drawing journal.

“What’s this?”

“Nothing much- just a book I carry around and draw in… It’s not anything, just doodles…”

As Dean opens it, his eyes go wide at the drawing of one of Castiel’s co-workers. It had been a long meeting, and Castiel was bored. She was done in charcoal, her hair in a bun and her suit a little ruffled, her cuff having the hint of a past coffee stain. Castiel remembered her, recalled her name was Joan and she was just a newbie like he was.

“This is-” Dean smiles, “shit, Cas.”

Castiel smiles, “You like it?”

“I love it!”

Dean keeps flipping through and smiling at Castiel’s drawings. It’s nice, because Castiel is really enjoying the constant grin plastered on the man’s face beside him. And for once, the room doesn’t feel as suffocating, doesn’t feel as scary as when he first walked in. Dean sets the journal and other things back into the bag and zips it up.

“You should become an artist.”

“And you should become a cook.”

Dean laughs, “Totally should… What do you really want to do, Cas?”

The writer still can’t process the nickname fully, but he goes on, “I want to be CEO of my magazine. Or at least- that’s what I’ve been telling myself since I got there.”

“But that’s not what you want- …” Dean tilts his head a little, expression and gaze softening, “right?”

“I- I don’t know.” Castiel looks away, biting his chapped bottom lip.

Dean shuffles a little closer, and Castiel has to convince himself not to hyperventilate, “Well someone once told me you just have to figure out what you’re good at in life, and never do it for free.”

“Did you just quote the Joker from  _Batman_?” Castiel laughs.

Dean shrugs, “Okay- maybe I did… But that doesn’t matter does it? Funny, an insane man’s words make more sense than most people who are mentally stable.”

“I suppose it is…” Castiel smirks, “I think that’s the whole point.”

Dean smiles back, his green eyes alight and Castiel sighs. The pasta is settling in his stomach and so is the beer he’s been drinking. It’s only when the TV clicks on that he snaps back to reality.

“What do you want to watch?”

Castiel looks towards the screen, “How about _The Breakfast Club_?”

“Not bad, though I’ve never seen it before.”

“You’ve never seen  _The_ _Breakfast Club_?” Castiel scoffs, “That’s like- the too-see movie in America, among countless others!”

Dean smirks, “Well- I did tell you I grew up in a small town. We really didn’t have cable or a video store there.”

Castiel smirks as Dean starts the film, “It’s high time we change that.”

It’s about thirty minutes into the movie and Castiel is a little disappointed. Not only that Dean seems to have lost enough interest in him he needs to resort to a movie to pass the time, but because Dean isn’t paying the slightest attention to him anymore. It’s like Castiel doesn’t exist, like he’s not even there. He’s not even listening to what’s being said on screen as he just stares at the blurred movement in front of him. He’s about to tell Dean he’s got to go- that there’s an article he has to tend to before he works tomorrow- when Dean places his arm behind Castiel’s head.

Mentally, Castiel is screaming, his eyes keep darting to the limb placed over his shoulder so calmly and nonchalantly. His heart is stammering and he swears that the movie is on silent because he can’t even hear it anymore as they run through the hallways and into the library. Physically however, he’s just still.

Maybe Dean really did forget he was there- that maybe Castiel was part of the couch and not a human being breathing and existing right alongside him. His mouth is dry, so he moves forward to grab his beer- and when his back returns to the sofa, Dean’s arm is gone. He can’t stop the wave of disappointment he feels towards the loss.

Soon, the movie ends, Castiel gathering his things and going to the door. Dean is smiling, guiding him to there and opening it for him.

“Thanks, Dean. The food was delicious and I had a really good time.” He puts on a mostly fake smile, because he’s still crushed from earlier, but he’s still genuine about it.

“No problem,” Dean begins to shut the door but stops himself, “you can come over whenever you like, Cas.”

And he closes it again.

Castiel makes his way home, city bustling around him. He decides that walking home is better, and he listens to his feet hit the pavement as he keep walking towards his apartment. Castiel’s stomach is still churning, opening the door and picking up Misty.

“I shouldn’t let my hopes get up, Misty,” he says solemnly, “I really shouldn’t.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An apple a day just means you really like fruit.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another!
> 
> Cafe Grumpy and the park are real places- just use Google Maps like I did. (:
> 
> ENJOY, MOTHERFUCKERS!~

* * *

 

 

Castiel is off today, and he’s currently walking down the street towards his favorite coffee shop. It was a long night- one filled with thoughts of Dean Winchester and the previous events of the past two days. He steps inside, ordering himself a tall black coffee and retreating to a corner by himself. Castiel quirks a brow as his phone vibrates.

It’s a text- and it’s from Dean, “ _Cas- you have to do me a favor._ ”

“ **Favor?** ” He replies.

The message is almost instantaneous, “ _Yes! I’m being interviewed by some magazine that rhymes with pigeon or something. It’s awful!_ ”

Castiel chuckles as he realizes who is interviewing him- and he understands Dean’s panic. They were horrible in so many ways- “ **What do you want me to do, then?** ”

“ _Anything! Call or something- give me an excuse to leave! I keep telling them I’m texting my agent over something- so roll with that!_ ”

Castiel smiles and types in Dean’s number, hearing the phone connect soon after the first second of it ringing, “ _Hello?_ ”

Dean sounds like he’s in pain from being interviewed, and Castiel almost laughs, “Is this good enough?”

“ _Yes- I understand. I’ll tell them, thank you._ ”

Castiel is biting back his laugh as he hears Dean excuse himself and sighs as he exits some building, “ _Thank fucking God, Cas! I owe you one._ ”

“I did just save you from _Perdition,_ Dean.” (Thank you Sharon for the idea for this sentence!)

He hears him chuckle, “ _I think it’s funny you know who I’m talking about._ ”

“That’s because they’re terrible. I don’t even know how they’re still running.”

“ _Agreed._ ”

Castiel chuckles, “So- what are you doing now that you’re not being tortured rather than interviewed?”

Dean snorts, “ _I’m just walking around New York I guess- and it seems that this is backfiring on me-_   **Oh my God Dean Winchester!** ”

Castiel is laughing now, some people turning their heads towards him in the cafe, and so he quiets himself. He hears Dean deal with the fangirls and send them on their way- a smile on his face the whole time.

“ _Sorry about that- can’t even walk down the damn street._ ”

“You sound like you’re in a good mood.”

Dean chuckles, “ _I actually am- I just like to curse like a sailor._ ”

“Really?”

Dean seems to be running now, and Castiel doesn’t know from what, “ _Yes I do- where are you, Cas?_ ”

“A cafe on West 20th Street. Why?”

“ _Because of reasons-_ ” Dean sounds like he’s jumping over a fence, “ _and Cafe Grumpy? I love that place!_ ”

Castiel smiles, “So you’ve been here before?”

Before Dean responds on the phone, the bell over the door rings and Castiel looks up. Dean’s standing in the doorway smiling and answering him, “Yes- I have.”

He walks over to Castiel’s table, the other people eyeing the two and whispering as Dean sits himself in the chair across from the writer. He sets his phone back into his pocket and smiles.

“So- how are you, Cas?”

“I’m doing okay-” he chuckles, “and you look a little winded.”

Dean smiles, his breath bellowing out, “I know. That’s because I just did some parkour to get here.”

“Parkour?”

“Fans.”

Castiel smirks, “I see- so you ran away from them.”

Dean looks taken aback, “No I didn’t! I just simply- okay, I did.”

Castiel is laughing now, Dean’s baritone mixing in. The writer is sure that all of the eyes are on them now, and he can hear and see people stopping on the side of the street- can see phones and cameras whipping out and taking pictures. Castiel would usually be afraid or tensed, but as the warm coffee sooths it’s way down his throat he can’t say he is.

Dean leaves for just a moment, returning with a coffee and setting it on the table, “What did you get?”

“Black.”

“Dude- so did I.” Dean smiles and so does Castiel.

The writer places his laptop back into his bag, setting it to the side of his chair and returning his gaze to Dean. When he does, the green is twinkling in the sunlight flowing through the cafe windows, bringing warmth to them and shadowing the curve of his lips perfectly. It takes him a moment to recuperate, but he manages without too much blush appearing on his face.

“So _Perdition_ \- you did an interview with them?”

“I say yes to anyone who asks-” Dean takes a sip of his coffee, licking his lips, “seems it bit me in the ass this time.”

Castiel chuckles, “But I was your saving grace.”

“You are,” Dean smiles widely, “and I owe you for that.”

Castiel raises a brow with a smirk on his features, “How exactly are you going to repay me for that, then?”

Dean leans forward a little, voice dropping and his grin growing slightly, his breath which smells of cool mint and hot coffee reach Castiel’s nose, “I may have an idea.”

He waits for Castiel to finish his coffee, and the best description Castiel can give him is a child a Christmas. His eye are alight with excitement and his leg is bouncing up and down on the leg of the chair he’s sitting in. As soon as Castiel’s coffee cup is in the trash can, Dean grasps Castiel’s hand and pulls him out of the cafe in a few, quick strides.

“Dean!” he yelps, people stopping and staring as Dean Winchester drags Castiel behind him, “Where are we going?”

“It’s December first, right?”

Castiel nods, even though Dean can’t see him, “Yeah, it is.”

Dean doesn’t answer, instead- he keeps dragging Castiel beside him until they reach the Madison Square Park. There’s some light snow around, the trees leafless and nothing but branches as Dean stops. There’s a clock tower nearby that reminds Castiel of London, and he smiles. It’s not the biggest or most well-known park in New York, but he can’t deny it’s pretty. Dean smiles and opens his arms wide.

“Perfect day to go to the park- am I right?”

Castiel nods, “It certainly is beautiful, I can’t say you’re wrong.”

There’s lights strung up in lines above them, as white as the few clouds in the cold sky around them. Dean’s walking beside Castiel, a smile wind on his face as they walk in sync. For the first time, Castiel notices how Dean’s dressed. He looks like an ordinary New Yorker, a dark green jacket wrapped around himself, and it looks like his hair sparkles in the sunlight and Castiel smiles. Dean looks kind of like a glittered supermodel.

“What’s funny?” Dean quirks a brow, looking towards Castiel.

“Nothing just-” he smirks, “why do you have to look like you come out of a damn catalogue?”

Dean laughs, “Thanks- but I’m not that impressive Cas.”

Castiel walks a little closer to him, “I wouldn’t say that- and even if that were true, you have other things to make-up for it.”

“Like what?”

“Well,” Castiel smiles and looks away, Dean’s intrigue making him snicker, “you’ve got your humor and a way with words- that’s for sure. Besides, you are really down to Earth for a celebrity.”

Dean laughs, “Really now? What were you expecting?

Castiel shrugs, “Well- in my job I meet a lot of famous people- get to see them in a light most do not. Like you. Sometimes, what I see is the exact opposite of what I expect. I was supposed to get an interview with Meg Masters- and I was looking forward to it until Chuck convinced me otherwise. She’s apparently stuck up and naive with her ego rather than being a person. Instead- I went for you. I’m going to be honest, I was a little judgemental at first. I thought you were going to be like Meg and I have to say- I was completely wrong.”

“Is that a good thing?”

“Yeah,” Castiel smiles, turning to catch Dean’s gaze, “it really is.”

They are quiet for a moment, walking around with the snow crunching underneath their shoes as they progress through the circle path in the park. Dean is almost touching Castiel is so close, and the writer is having to remind himself that this is the calmest he’s ever been in Dean’s presence and he needs to keep it up before he goes all faint-spree again. He’s so into his thought, that he’s caught off guard when a snowball hits his arm.

“What the-” Castiel snaps his head up, looking to see Dean laughing while flickering melting snow off of his fingertips.

“Oh-” Castiel smirks darkly, “it’s on, motherfucker.”

Dean laughs loudly, holding onto his knees as Castiel rushes over to a pile of snow and making a makeshift snowball from it. Soon, it’s flying Dean’s way and it hits him in the stomach. People stand by, watching and even laughing as the two throw more and more balls of snow towards each other. Some are even taking pictures- but the two don’t care. No- what matters is that they are tied and the snow is starting to numb their fingers.

“Did I make up for earlier?” Dean asks, cupping five more snowballs in his arms and preparing to throw them Castiel’s way.

“Not quite!” Castiel already has a pile larger than Dean’s ready to go onto the frontal assault, “I’d say we’re even when I win!”

Before Castiel can throw another and watch as it hurls itself to Dean’s body, he feels it clash into his. His back meets the frozen ground, snow and dead leaves crunching underneath his jacket as he regains some clarity. Dean’s above him, a smirk that can rival any Castiel has ever seen before and blow them out of the water on his face as he straddles his hips and chuckles. Is Dean Winchester really- …?

“I win.”

Before Dean can do anything, Castiel flips him on his back and is now the triumphant one on top, “That’s not fair Dean- you know better. Besides, only when you realize how well your opponent is armed is when you strike.”

“You sound like Yoda, dude.”

Before Dean can stop laughing, there is more snow in his face. Castiel is laughing out, ringing into the air as he and Dean flop over and over in a twist of limbs, snow, and laughter. A cop comes around, telling them to stop and they literally sprint away as he chases them away from the park. They’re laughing, breathless, and entering Dean’s apartment.

“That was-” Dean choked out, face rosey and cheeks dark, “amazing.”

Castiel nods, “Remind me- to do this- again.”

“Again?” Dean perks up, his smile growing wider.

“Mhmm.” Castiel shrugs off his dampened and ironically cold coat, “I had a good- time today.”

Dean walks over, and he begins to turn on the fireplace when Castiel’s phone buzzes in his pocket. He pulls it out, seeing there is at least a hundred-sixty-nine unanswered texts and ten calls from Chuck. His breath constricts in his throat as he opens and reads them.

Chuck isn’t happy- oh no- he’s pissed. As the messages dwindle down and so does Castiel’s good mood, Dean walks over to him and quirks a brow.

“Something wrong, Cas?”

“Yeah um-” he grabs his coat, flinging it back onto himself and beginning to shiver, “seems my boss isn’t too happy with me right now.”

Dean tilts his head, “Why? You haven’t done anything wrong, have you?”

Castiel stops at the doorknob, biting his lower lip, “Apparently, our little walk-a-bout today has sent some pictures to him, viral ones, according to him. I’ve got to go down there right now so he can chew my ass off or I might lose my job.”

“It’s because of me? …” Dean sounds unlike himself, a little quieter and sorrowful, “Oh Cas- I’m sorry. I should’ve known better or-”

“No, Dean. It’s fine. I had fun and you didn’t know. It’s okay. I’ve got to go though-”

“Wait!” Dean hands over his jacket and has a sad smile, “Take this with you, yours is soaked. Leave it here to dry and you can come back and get it- … if you want.”

Castiel nods, “Alright, I will.”

Then Castiel Novak leaves to get his ass handed to him by his boss, Dean Winchester’s coat wrapped snugly around his arms as he walks his way to the elevator.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you know that it takes 32 muscles in your face to smile?  
> And it takes none for me to not give a fuck?


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a really short ch., but for a reason- next ch. is going to be in Dean's POV and this was the best place to enact the transition. (;
> 
> Enjoy motherfuckers.~

* * *

 

Castiel walks into Chuck’s office, twirling the strings from Dean’s jacket between his fingertips and swallowing as he takes his seat. Chuck isn’t there, and it gives the writer just a few short, peaceful moments to breathe.

“Castiel?” Chuck’s voice is behind him now, making him jump in his chair. He holds onto Dean’s jacket like it’s the only safety he has.

“Y-Yes sir? …”

He pushes his back further into the chair as Chuck confronts him, sighing and sitting in his desk, fingers steepled under his chin, “Castiel- were you really out with Dean Winchester today?”

The writer nods, “Yes…”

“That was you- in the pictures- with him.”

“I was.”

Chuck narrows his eyes at the fabric over Castiel’s shoulders and back, “Is that his jacket?”

“Yes…”

Chuck takes a moment, thinking as Castiel tries not to fidget in his seat as Chuck continues a moment a later, “We can use this to our advantage.”

Castiel tilts his head, “Advantage? …”

“Yes!” Chuck smiles, “Can’t you imagine it? ‘ _Angel Weekly: An Inside Look to Dean Winchester’s Life_ ’. It’s sure to be a hit! We can surely become number one magazine by that alone! This can be your shot, kid!”

“My shot? Exposing Dean Winchester is my shot at success- to ruin the life another so I can gain from it? I don’t think so- besides, Dean and I don’t know each other fairly well.”

Chucks quirks a brow, “Really Castiel? Last time I checked there’s about fifty photos of you two wrestling together in the snow alone. I’d say you’re familiar with him.”

The writer narrows his eyes, “That doesn’t mean I’m going to sell him out either way. I was just doing part of my job Chuck, isn’t that what you pay me to do?”

“It is…” The CEO’s tone hardens towards Castiel, “But that doesn’t mean you have a ruffle in the hay with a celebrity that tickles your fancy. Besides- how do I know you even got your assignment done?”

“Because contrary to your belief we were going over our interview!” Castiel snaps, he doesn’t care anymore because Chuck is severely pissing him off, “We went over it together and all of that! Sure- we had some fun, but wouldn’t you when the questions drag themselves out and burn out your brain?”

Chuck pauses for a moment, “If you are to see Dean Winchester again- I advise you either leave this establishment or tell me straight away.”

Castiel gets up in a fit of rage, “What the fuck Chuck?! He’s a human being too- contrary to what you must have fooled yourself into believing! He has privacy, and people like you invade it like it’s nothing! Maybe you’re the CEO because you major in being an asshole rather than a businessman- just like every other damn one of you in this city!”

The reporter doesn’t look back as he storms towards the stairwell, the wall falls against his back and he bites his lip. The jacket on his skin feels like it’s made of lead rather than fabric- weighing him down towards the ground. He shuffles down the stairs, taking two at a time and nearly tripping. His breath is ragged, rushing out into the flood of people. Some eye him, his face surely beat red and Castiel winds up running down the cement and the cold air stinging his cheeks. It’s beginning to snow now, and as Castiel makes his way up to Dean’s condo, he feels the truth sink in his gut as he steps up each stair.

He walks up to Dean’s door and he stares at the wood before knocking slightly. Dean opens it, a smile appearing on his face but vanishing just as quickly as he sees Castiel’s flushed expression.

“Cas? …”

“We can’t talk to each other anymore, Dean.”

He watches as his face falls, eyes softening and voice gaining a sad tone, “Why? …”

Castiel sighs, “I just- I’m going to lose my job if I don’t stop talking to you.”

“I thought you hated your job-”

“That doesn’t mean I’m going to ruin your life to aid mine, Dean… Chuck told me I have to sell out- and I’m sure there’s going to be others begging at me soon… I can’t do that to you Dean- especially when you’ve done nothing to me to do that to you and stoop that low.”

Dean bites his lower lip, his voice cracking a little and Castiel swears his eyes look a little glistened, “So… this is it, isn’t it? The end of this short little thing we had going? ...”

Castiel nods sadly, “I suppose it is… I’m so sorry Dean.”

“No it’s fine, Cas…” Dean puts on a small smile, “Well- it was nice as it lasted at least, right?”

“Oh  _fuck yes_.”

Dean bursts into a borderline chuckle, except it’s swaying on the line of tears and dry eyes. Castiel looks towards the floor, his throat burning more and more as the smallest second passes with Dean standing in front of him for the last time. It’s sad, the air around them churning negatively. Cas looks up, giving a small grin and turning.

He walks down the hallway, fingers thrusted in the jacket pockets as he walks to the stairwell- and he can feel Dean’s eyes burning into his back.

The spotlight doesn’t shine quite like Castiel imagined.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A person can fly away if you throw them hard enough.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No Dean POV- but I make up for it- I promise. (;
> 
> By the way, Dean's little quote is from The Breakfast Club. ;D
> 
> SURPRISES IN THE NEXT CH. :D
> 
> ENJOY YOU LITTLE AMAZING SHITS!~

* * *

 

It's been several weeks now, the date is the twenty-fourth of December as Castiel walks down the street. His life has so drastically changed in the past month he still doesn't know how to wrap his head around it. Dean hasn't texted him since the day he walked away from his condo's door- and Castiel still can't stop the wave of guilt that rolls over in his stomach every time he reminds himself of that. He bites his lip as the image of Dean's face before he left faintly floating into his mind.

The people walk by, some looking at him and whispering to whoever they're walking beside. Castiel figures that they recognize him from the photos that went viral soon after the last time he hung out with Dean. He's already gotten used to it, and it makes him shove his hands down into his jacket pockets- still not worn in from the clothing retailer. It doesn't feel right, but dammit Castiel can't even walk into work anymore without being eyed like he's on fucking fire or something.

Chuck has kept him on a tight and close leash, while some people avoid him or won't stop nagging him about Dean for hours on end. It's like rubbing salt into a festering wound- and it really, really fucking hurts. Car horns honk as he makes it to his apartment complex, buzzing himself in and reaching his door in a few strides. As soon as he grabs his keys out, they fumble out of his fingers and they're falling onto the floor. Castiel goes down to grab them and stops.

There's a package sitting on his doorstep- or whatever the hell you would call it- and it's sitting there waiting for him to open.

He unlocks the door, blocking Misty as she mewls at him to move so she can escape. Instead, he goes over to his couch and opens it. Inside is his tan coat, dry-cleaned and folded neatly within the carboard container. It smells like a Christmas tree- and it makes Castiel but his lip as it only shows him the finality of it all.

There's a note lying in the bottom of the box, neatly scrawled handwriting all over the page as the reporter picks it up.

' _Hey Cas,_

_It's Dean, but I'm guessing you probably already figured that out by now… This isn't a plea for you to come running back up to me or something- it's just me returning something you forgot about. Maybe I hoped you'd come back and get it- maybe you'd come back and see me again before it's too late… But as I see the date and the days counting up I realize that maybe it's a hope that's just as misplaced as your coat is in my condo. It's clean, should even smell like the tree that I have up right now- because that's where I put it. Underneath the branches wrapped up nice and safe for you just in case you ever knocked on my door again. Seems like you aren't coming back however- and no matter how much it hurts to recognize that fact- I can't deny it. I want you to at least receive my present before we truly part ways and call it quits- however melancholy it may seem to me… So, here you go, you have your coat back. Consider it the rest of my favor for the whole Perdition stunt. Don't worry about returning mine… you can keep it- it suits you anyways._

_Merry Christmas, Cas._

_It was really nice while I got to know you._

_\- Dean Winchester_ '

Castiel stared at the black ink before him, eyes watering and his breath coming out in uneven gasps. He bites his lip, setting it down on his coffee table before his tears smudge the ink to where it's illegible. Castiel grabs his phone, opening up Dean's contact for the last time, beginning a new text and typing a message with shaking fingertips. He presses send and puts his face in his hands as his breaths rack his form on the couch.

" **Merry Christmas to you too, Dean.** "

 

 

 

 

**…**

Castiel is standing among the group of people crowded around the streets of Time Square, bustling around and cheering as the lights glint off of the thousands of small specks on the ball for New Years. There's champagne being passed around and Castiel readily drinks it- he's smiling because it's the only thing he likes about New York- it's abundance in alcohol. He's wearing a charcoal jacket and blue jeans, a faded tee from a band he used to listen to as a teenager on his skin underneath the fabric.

There's songs playing constantly, paper fluttering down like the pieces of snow and Castiel smiles. It seems like everyone is hyped- and as the beat syncs with his heart, he chuckles. The writer watches as bands and singers come on, the clock slowly ticking away the last of the year behind them. He's swaying with the music until it abruptly stops.

"To help kick off our countdown we have someone very special!" the announcer says cheekily, "Dean Winchester!"

Castiel stiffens in his shoes as if avoiding Dean was possible- dammit.

He starts to leave when he hears the screams as Dean comes on stage, he's smiling, wearing a suit that's fitted to his body, "Hi everyone."

Castiel begins to walk away again when Dean pauses, everyone in the Square dying down, "I'm not one for good speeches, or inspiring others when they need it most. In fact- I don't even know why I'm up here."

The people chuckle as Castiel stared his at his face on screen- his green eyes sticking out of the digital projectors.

"I just have a few things to say. New Years is a time for new beginnings right? Giving yourself goals and righting all the wrongs you've done prior to now. I myself have a few, and one is that I need to tell someone special that I really want them back- however cheesy that sounds to you all, and I'm sorry I'm taking this to send a message to them. You probably think it's bullshit."

The crowd makes sounds, some girls screaming and guys laughing. Castiel feels as though he's about to fall off the planet.

Castiel can't believe what he's hearing as Dean continues, "I know I'm not perfect- that I'm human. I've made some mistakes in my lifetime, and I'm sure they aren't going to be my last. But if there's one thing I am sure about, it's that I really enjoyed being with you. I can't help what others say or do, but I can surely tell you from myself how I feel rather than some tabloid in a news stand. I might seem needy right now, or I may even push you away by addressing the whole entire city and country by admitting I was wrong to let you go in front of millions of people and attentive ears- but dammit I'm not going to let that stop me. I had some of my best memories with you- however short and brief, and you made me feel like I was actually a person rather than a name flashing in lights on the strip. And if anything, you taught me ' _You ought to spend a little more time trying to make something of yourself and a little less time trying to impress people._ ' I hope you can understand that, and you'll be willing to just keep seeing each other even as friends, because I'd rather be able to talk to you every day rather than look towards a window and remember you. I guess you could say this is me trying to right my mistake- and hopefully you'll let me."

The people around Castiel are staring down at him, and he can hear them muttering words to each other. He knows they probably get exactly what's going on- maybe even more so than Castiel and he's involved. Somehow, in a moment of either rational or unfathomable courage and determination, Castiel slides his legs over the metal fencing that's blocking his way towards safety.

Before he has another chance to move, he feels a spotlight shine on him and he's stopping completely still. He looks up, his confused and bewildered face on all of the screens as people quiet around him.

"Cas?" Dean asks from up on the stage.

_Oh shit._

Castiel swallows, feeling all of the eyes on him. The spotlight seriously does suck.

But as he sees the expression on Dean's face on stage, he forgets that. Forgets all the people around him and the light making him stand of out of the sea of faces like a diamond in coal. All he can see is Dean's eyes soften as the seconds pass by like years.

There's about a minute left on the clock, and Castiel decides it high time he gets this done before the deadline.

He's sprinting, people screaming as he runs by, eyes trained on Dean as he starts to run off of the stage towards Castiel as the clock goes to fifty-nine seconds. The cameras are trained on the two of them, the crowd crying out as their feet make them fly forwards. The ball begins to drop behind Dean, the man not even looking back as they get closer and closer.

_Forty-six._

Castiel really should have been nearer the stage, this would make it so much easier. Dean is at least another hundred feet away, but even then his heart is pounding and the adrenaline and cheers of the crowd make him go faster. Dean's smiling, and the snow falls around them with the silvery paper as they being to close in on each other.

_Thirty-two._

"Dean!"

"Cas!"

The crowd grows in volume, the two mere feet from each other.

_Twenty- one._

"Dean!" Castiel runs into his embrace, feeling the scent reach his nose and his body just fall into him. The sound of the people around them is deafening.

"Oh Cas-" Dean pulls back.

_Fourteen._

Castiel bites his lip, the cameras still trained on them in the seconds the have left, "Dean- I'm such an idiot… I'm so sorry, I never should have-"

"Don't worry…" he chuckles, arms tightening around Castiel's waist, "That's about to be last year's news."

**_Six._ **

Castiel smiles, "Oh really- so how are we going to start this year?"

_**Five.** _

"I've got an idea…" Dean smirks, the crowd only growing more and more out of control.

The ball is mere centimeters away from it's base as Dean leans closer and closer, eyes half-lidded towards Castiel's as they close in.

_**Four.** _

Castiel's breath catches in his throat, eyeing Dean's lips as the move towards his in slow motion.

**_Three._ **

The people are so loud, Castiel can't hear his heart in his ears anymore. He feels Dean pull him against his body, the arm guiding him forward by his waist.

**_Two._ **

Dean smirks right before their lips meet and Castiel is unsure if his knees can work properly anymore.

The ball hits the bottom as their lips collide, the crowd around them screaming and cheering as the confetti falls around them in the mixture of snow. All Castiel can really take in is Dean's heated lips dragging against his, the feeling of his heartbeat banging against his ribs as he leans into Dean's torso.

"Happy New Year!" They all cry out, people laughing and still celebrating as they only continue their kiss for a few more seconds.

When Castiel feels the flesh removed from his mouth, he blinks as he takes in the scene. People are smiling towards him, screaming encouraging things and whistling. His face is on camera alongside Dean's, completely flushed and hair rustled. Apparently, Dean had run his hand through Castiel's hair- but he was too busy with the initial sensation to realize it. He laughs, looking towards Dean who's standing straighter and a wide grin on his face.

Oh yes- this year was going to be _absolutely fantastic._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Learn magic to become a wizard, Harry.~


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: SEXUAL CONTENT IN THIS CH.  
> YOU'RE FUCKING WELCOME DARLINGS/SIRS.
> 
> I'm going to end this in 1-3 ch. soon. More than likely 1-2 though. Just a few ties up/follow up ch.'s.
> 
> Thank you all for supporting this story! Someone (Aus) asked if they could even make fanart! HOLY FUCK THAT'S JUST AMAZING! (:
> 
> ENJOY!~

* * *

 

Castiel’s fingers intertwine with Dean’s as they walk down the streets together. People around them are still amped up as they walk side by side. It’s a new year- and a new beginning for Castiel Novak and Dean Winchester. Right before they reach the end of the groups of people, a reporter runs up to Castiel and shoves a microphone into his face.

“Castiel Novak- is there anything you’d like to say?”

Castiel chuckles, looking over to Dean who’s eyes are soft and a small smile is on his face, “Umm- yeah actually… This is to my boss Chuck: I quit.”

Dean laughs, pressing his lips to the side of Castiel’s face as the ex-writer laughs. The reporter still doesn’t leave, “Dean- did this go exactly to your plan?”

“Not yet-” Dean gropes Castiel’s ass and he has to hold back a squeak, the crowd of people who are behind them are laughing, “I still have some unfinished business to attend to at my condo. Happy New Years!”

Dean is dragging Castiel away now, the cameraman and reporter being left behind as Dean leads them to his condo at a jog. It isn’t far, and Castiel is glad, because it takes them a bit to even get up the stairs. (They both decided it would be more private, and besides, no one likes walking in on two people getting frisky in such an enclosed space right beside them.) They’re a tangle of limbs, Castiel’s gasps and moans splitting the air and echoing as they manage a two-step-per-minute pace. Dean is pushing his lips against Castiel’s, dragging his hands over his shirt and rubbing the exposed skin at the neckline.

“You should dress casually more often-” Dean says breathily, “I love the way these jeans hang on your hips.”

“And I love how you’ve stopped.”

Dean chuckles, “Impatient are we?”

“Only when I’m not getting what I want.”

“Sounds childish.”

“Not as much as you do currently-” Castiel smirks, bringing his mouth to breathe his words low and heated against Dean’s neck, “but I can fix that in a lot of ways if you care to spare the time.”

Dean’s back into it again, except this time he’s more fiery and lingering than before. Castiel throws his head back up onto the wall, Dean licking a long line from his collarbone up to his earlobe, pulling it with the tips of his teeth. The movement makes Castiel buck his hips towards Dean’s, a long sound coming out of his mouth that can only be described as “porno worthy”.

“If we don’t get up to my condo in a few seconds-” Dean’s lowers his voice just as Castiel did, except there’s more behind his words and it’s the truth, making Castiel shiver, “I’ll fuck you on these damn stairs and I don’t care who hears or watches.”

Castiel moves his legs in seconds, body humming as they run up the stairs. They stop at the door, pushing their lips together and fumbling down the hallway against the wall until they reach Dean’s door. The man somehow manages to unlock it quickly with the flick of a graceful wrist- keys being thrown to the floor alongside clothes as it slams almost immediately behind them.

“Dean-” Castiel feels the wooden floor press against his back, his shirt riding up his stomach a little as Dean straddles over him just like he did in the park a month ago.

Castiel throws his head back, Dean pulling off his pants and shoving the boxers aside, a surge of electricity passing through Castiel’s spine as he does so. It’s a moment before anything happens- because Dean looks at Castiel. His green eyes are softened, a faint smile playing on his lips as he puts them onto Castiel’s. It’s sweet- just like how he starts.

It’s slow, gentle. It reminds Castiel of how one would treat a first kiss- lingering, glancing at each other with your heart stammering within those valuable seconds, putting your flesh against theirs for the first time with such intimacy. The movements are careful, as if one wrong misplacement of pressure and it will fall apart. Fragile and calm. Castiel feels Dean slot above him, fingers soothing and soft as the first step was taken onto a very long, and hopefully sweet path.

“ _Dean!_ ” Castiel cries out, spine arching off of the floor, and he feels Dean runs his hands through his hair and he shivers as the fingertips brush his scalp gingerly.

“Shush…” he sooths, “I got you, Cas.”

He pressed soft kisses against Castiel’s neck, pushing forward and rolling his back and hips- Castiel shuddering below, Dean’s name called out from his chapped lips. The city is still continues on without them, snow falling slowly outside the windows. Nothing but the dull roar of distant people and rushed breaths reaching their ears, skins slotting against skin and wood. Heat and nothing more than feeling the brush of their bodies against the other’s.

“ _Dean_ \- I’m almost-”

“It’s okay Cas, just let go.” He whispers, syllables hushed as Castiel holds onto him, fingers dipping into the heated flesh above him as he does as Dean tells him.

And it’s amazing.

Castiel gasps, lungs heaving and muscles shaking as Dean keeps going- following through as his name is yelled out into his condo. Castiel’s head is thrown back, mouth agape in a silent cry as his blood rushes through his veins. His skin is alight and tingling, any friction causing him to bit his lip and raise his spine.

A few moments later, Dean’s resting above him. He’s panting, head resting beside Castiel’s. His arms are clinging onto Castiel as if he’s the only thing he’s anchored to- a boat adrift in the middle of a rocking ocean. Castiel smiles, a chuckle vibrating his chest as he turns his head a little and kisses Dean’s cheek.

“Scratch what I said earlier- you should become some type of sexual assistant.”

“Are you taking applications, Cas?”

The man laughs, “Not usually… But I’d make an exception for you.”

Dean smiles, pressing his mouth against Castiel’s. They’re tired. Castiel can feel the lingering exhaustion pulling at his bones- the only reason he’s probably awake now is the bubbly chemicals pumping through his veins provided by Dean Winchester. He senses this, giving Castiel a small peck and getting up. He stops as Castiel starts to protest- laughing and watching as the man pouts from the floor.

“I’m just getting some things. I’ll be back in a moment.”

Castiel sits up as Dean enters a room- but also because he liked the way his naked ass swung as he walked away, but that’s not of import. He gets up, eyeing the room because it’s a little chilly now that his clothes are on the floor and Dean’s no longer pressed against him. He finds a small blanket on the edge of the couch- wrapping himself in it and taking a seat in front of the windows.

And he’s amazed.

Not only is New York glittering with snow and confetti, people still on the ground below cheering with the arrival of a new year- but just the beauty of all that’s happened so far to him. That Castiel had become the luckiest son of a bitch in the universe for getting to begin such an intimate and close relationship with someone like Dean- hell, no one can be like him- and Castiel is sure there’s no one else for him.

So he sits, waiting on Dean to return with whatever he was fetching and he sighs in content. He was happy- for the first time in five years and a city that literally towered over him- shining out like the brightest of stars, Dean to his side. It’s a little funny, a little unbelievable- but as Dean wraps his arms around Castiel’s waist and hums into his shoulder- Castiel thinks he can get used to it.

“What are you thinking about, Cas?”

“Everything.”

Dean chuckles softly, “That’s a little broad for two in the morning- don’t you think?”

Castiel shakes his head, “No- not that kind of everything… Just us. Me and you. About how I’m not even supposed to be in this condo right now with your arms around me. About how I should be in my apartment alone drinking cheap alcohol with my cat.”

“Not all things are impossible.” Dean presses his lips against Castiel’s neck softly, “Come on, let’s get ready for bed.”

Castiel turns, and he sees what Dean went to retrieve. It’s a foam mattress, light but more comfortable than flat boards of the floor. A plush comforter and pillows lay beside them and Castiel smiles.

“I thought you’d like sleeping with a view of the city, kind of like how you were entranced when we first met- right?” Dean grins back.

“That’s perfect.” Castiel feels his chest flutter towards the admiration he’s getting from Dean.

They set the mattress up, Dean lying behind Castiel- arms rested on his hip as Castiel snuggles back into him. The lights shimmer alongside the snowflakes, Dean humming a song and running his fingers down Castiel’s shoulder to his back. He’s about to doze off when Dean surprises him with what he says.

“I can’t believe it either, Cas.”

“Really?” He tilts his head back a little, eyes half-lidded and voice hoarse from previous events and sleepiness, “Why would you say that?”

Dean smiles, his green eyes still as vibrant in the low-lighting as they are in the sun, “I’m just as lucky to have you. It seems just like yesterday you’re knocking on my door batting those little baby-blues and being all flustered. I’d lost count on how many times I’ve seen blush creep up in your cheeks and it still gets me every time. I just couldn’t stop thinking about you after that- and I wanted you as soon as I closed that door for the first time. I even made some moves on you- like the arm during The Breakfast Club- but you shot me down every time and I felt like I was aiming for a target I wasn’t mean to shoot for.”

Castiel tilts his head a fraction, “A target you weren’t meant to shoot for?”

“Out of my league, Cas.”

“I’m not out of your league. I don’t think I ever could be.”

Dean smiles, pressing his lips to Castiel’s, “I can’t tell if you’re trying to compliment me or degrading yourself.”

Castiel shrugs, “Probably both.”

“I can assure you it’s not. You’re amazing, and I’m positive I’m not the first to have their eyes linger on you.”

“Sounds exactly like what I was thinking.”

Dean shuffles closer, “So? I’m famous- whatever. Just something to add on a list right? I never got with anyone since I left Lawrence Cas- I was afraid I’d push them away, that they’d only like me for my fame and money. I tip-toed around you for a while because I was uncertain if you wanted that with me. I guess we both misjudged each other.”

“So you were afraid to get with me?”

Dean hesitates a little, but continues with a smirk, fingers rubbing small circles into Castiel’s skin, “Yeah- I guess I was. You seemed so innocent- and I thought that it was a ploy for an article or you wanted to get involved in some fling that most celebrities have nowadays. But even as I thought that, I couldn’t help but fall in love with you.”

He waits for a response, because right now Castiel is trying to remember how to articulate words properly, “Oh- … you… love me?”

“I do. Undoubtedly.”

“I love you too, Dean.” He presses his lips to his one more time.

Castiel falls asleep like that. Snow falling outside and New York alight, Dean Winchester beside him and murmuring his name as they both drift on into a well deserved sleep.

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I updated so late- I had so much to do today.  
> I have smut so hopefully I made up for myself. (:
> 
> I may add a few more ch.'s then planned- but I am in debate about that- but at least for now you know the end is lingering.
> 
> I also have another fic in the works- again.... and it's alpha/omega... again...
> 
> ENJOY!~

* * *

 

The sun shines in through the windows of Dean’s condo, lighting Castiel’s eyelids and forcing him to blink them open. He grunts. The memory of last night plays in his mind, images of Time Square and Dean’s skin and lips forging themselves in his head. Castiel sits up, New York flowing down below as the smell of eggs and bacon hit his nose.

“Dean? …” He mumbles.

“In the kitchen!” Dean calls out.

Castiel’s a little sore- from his run and “exercise” from last night and he wraps the blanket around himself since he’s cold and naked.

He pads into the kitchen, Dean wearing nothing but a black apron as he stirs scrambled eggs inside of a pan. Castiel nearly slips on the comforter, but regains his balance quickly as he removes his attention from Dean’s exposed body to his balance. The man in front of him chuckles, placing the steaming food onto a plate and turning to face him again.

“I just finished your eggs, Cas-” Dean smiles, “hope you like scrambled ones.”

“I love them. My mother always made them for me.”

Dean chuckles, “Good to know my eggs are mnemonic to you.”

Castiel shrugs, the blanket slipping off one of his shoulders, “As long as I get to eat them I’ll be happy- I’m starving!”

Dean laughs, watching as Castiel takes the fork and pops some of the fresh eggs into his mouth, groaning as the taste hits his tongue. Dean sets another plate in front of him, bacon lining the side and toast on the edge, a glass of orange juice slid on the counter towards him.

“You thought of everything didn’t you?”

Dean shrugs, his smile still apparent on his features, “Maybe I do. Eat up, we’re going out in a bit.”

“Out?”

“You’re mine now Cas- I have to show it to the world.”

Castiel tilts his head, “But didn’t you do that last night?”

Dean smirks, voice dropping an octave, “I did way more than that.”

The eggs in Castiel’s throat nearly go down wrong at the words, and he has to quickly wash it down with orange juice before somehow managing to look at Dean.

“So, what are the plans for today?”

Dean eyes a drop of juice leftover on the corner of Castiel’s lower lip, “I want to go to a park.”

“Park?”

“Yes.”

Castiel swallows some bacon, the taste lingering on his tongue as he speaks, “Which one, then?”

He watches as Dean raises his eyebrows, “Really? No denying it- no other suggestions?”

“No that I can think of-” he eats another forkful of eggs, “why?”

“It’s just that I thought with how you hated all the magazines getting on your ass stepping out into the public eye was a little bothersome to you.”

He’s even more surprised as Castiel laughs, “I kind of threw that out the window with last night, right?”

Dean nods, “Yeah- I suppose you make a valid point.”

“Alright Dean Winchester-” Castiel smiles, finishing the rest of his homemade breakfast, “where to?”

“Central Park.”

Castiel smiles, “Alright- let’s get ready.”

He starts to walk to the shower when he feels a hand slide underneath the blanket covering his body, Dean chuckling at how Castiel tenses for a moment. The request is processed fairly quickly, Dean leading the way towards the shower.

Their lips entangle as the water runs behind them, steam flowing out and making their skin slick alongside the accumulating sweat. Dean’s sitting on the edge of the tub, Castiel sitting in his lap. He rolls his hips, the moans and breaths from Dean adding more to the tingle building underneath his skin. He brings his mouth to the corner of Dean’s jawline and neck, lapping his skin with his tongue and sucking.

In moments the shower wall is behind his back, water streaming down his skin as the breath leaves his lungs. Dean’s kissing his neck, low sounds vibrating his chest as the water rushed about them. The tile is pressing into his skin, the only sound is the shower running and his moans as Dean works him up.

It’s not as soft as the first time- but Castiel can say the angle isn’t the best for comfort. Even though it’s a little hard on him, every single movement- however minute- that Dean makes sends a strong jolt up his spin, passing through every vertebrae until it leaves verbally from his mouth. Dean takes his hands and repositions them, one on the wall of the shower, the other to the nape of Castiel’s hairline. The pads of his fingers brush against the skin, moving hair as he keeps biting his lower lip and pounding Castiel into the shower wall. (Haha- pounding.)

“ _Dean!_ “ Castiel cries, body shuddering as the chemicals envelope him in the steady stream of water and the sensation of Dean’s body moving against his own. Dean’s gasping now, following right after the heated moan of his name on Castiel’s chapped lips- head thrown against the wall and lungs heaving as he closes his eyes.

They lean against each other, the only remaining sound is the water pooling and flowing down the drain, their breaths barely registering in their ears. Dean puts his forehead against Castiel’s, bringing his flushed lips to the other’s in a chaste kiss before letting out a content sigh.

Quickly, they wash themselves, the water growing cool as they step out- skin pruned and flushed as the steam rolls around them. Since Castiel has nothing but dirty clothes from his wardrobe, Dean lends him some. It’s a pair of jeans this time, alongside a t-shirt that Castiel swore Dean wore in his big-hit movie, but Dean just laughed and told him to shut up.

There were people swarming around them as soon as they left the confines of Dean’s condo. They all called out, labeling them the “New Year Couple” and flashing their cameras at least a million times before Dean ushers them both in a car. Castiel flexes his hand, fingers white from all the faces and voices that were staring at him only moments ago- and when he uncurled his fingers in the slightest way Dean slides his hand up and grasps Castiel’s.

“Hey, it’s okay. I know there a little overbearing at first, but you get used to them.”

“Used to them?” Castiel tilts his head.

Dean chuckles, “I don’t plan on letting you go- for a damn long time- maybe not ever.”

Castiel tightens his grip, his fingers wrapping onto Dean’s, “I don’t think I want you to.”

The rest of the cab ride over is spent with Castiel leaning his head onto Dean’s shoulder. The very few bumps in the road sliding the two even closer, their hands still intertwined as the car rolls up to Central Park. Dean gives him a hundred, the couple leaving the yellow car and stepping out into the cold air. Thankfully there aren’t too many people around, and so Dean and Castiel have a moment to themselves.

“Dean,” Castiel’s arm is looped through Dean’s, their pace is slow as the gravel crunches underneath their shoes, “I just realized something.”

Dean turns his head a little, “What is it, Cas?”

“We kissed- in front of millions of people.”

“Does that bother you?”

“It should…” Castiel shrugs, “But it didn’t matter at the time really- I was too busy realizing how much of an idiot I was.”

Dean smiles, “You aren’t an idiot Cas. You tried to keep Chuck away from where his attention shouldn’t be- and I owe you endlessly for that. Let alone the others who probably hit you up for stuff about me.”

He watches as the other man bites his lip, “It wasn’t much. I didn’t want the world around you crashing down because a magazine thought it was okay to publish your inner life.”

“My world came crashing down anyways.”

Castiel whips his head around, eyes wide and confusion settling itself into his head, “Why? Did something happen?”

Cars honk as Dean nods his head, “Something did. You see- I lost you. At first, I was sort of hoping it was all a lie, and that’s how I spent the first two weeks. The second thing I thought was that I was supposed to let you go- even though I couldn’t look out my window anymore without thinking about you standing there staring at the skyscrapers- and it hurt, it really did- but I figured you probably wanted it to be that way, so I sucked it up. I sent your coat back as kind of an end to my thoughts and feelings- or it was supposed to be. I thought, hell, if I give him his coat back it’ll all be fine- like it never happened. But as the ceiling stared back at me in the middle of the night I concluded that wouldn’t ever occur. You’re too embedded in me, Cas. You’re in here no matter how hard I try to erase you or dig you out. So in that moment of clarity, I figured out how I was going to get you back.”

“The speech at Times Square.” Castiel adds.

“Yes,” Dean chuckles a little, their pace never breaking, “I hoped that if I told all those people how much I really missed you- that you knew how much I really did- that all of the bullshit Chuck and those other CEO’s threw at you wouldn’t matter. It was a long shot, really.”

Castiel tilts his head, “Why?”

He watches as Dean looks over at him, green eyes flickering with amusement, “Because I know how fucking stubborn you can be at times. So I thought that even with an address to you and the world that there was still a huge possibility it would be for nothing. Thankfully it didn’t end that way.”

Castiel pecks Dean on the cheek, blush creeping up his skin a little. Then he starts to laugh. It gets so bad, Dean turns to look at him with a bewildered expression as tears begin to roll down Castiel’s face.

“What’s so funny?”

Castiel uses his one free arm to hold his stomach, “Nothing- just that a month ago- I couldn’t even ask you a damn question!”

“Consider that progress?” Dean chuckles.

Castiel brings his mouth next to Dean’s, dropping his voice just as he did on the stairwell, “If you consider progress by me being able to have hot sex with you twice in the past forty-two hours, then yes. I made substantial progress.”

Dean goes a little rigid beside him making Castiel laugh. It ends abruptly, his back finding a tree as Dean smirks and his pupils dilate. Castiel feels Dean’s breath hot and low as his voice slips out like whiskey would from a bottle.

“If we weren’t in a park your total would be wrong.”

Castiel stared at Dean, a brow raising and one side of his mouth pulled up, voice husky as he gives it a flirtatious tone, “Oh really now, Dean? How are you going to do that?”

Dean’s smirk grows even wider, “You’ll found out later, that's for sure.”

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We finished guys! (:
> 
> Aww yiss.
> 
> Also, I had another story idea so I'm so sorry.
> 
> ENJOY!~

* * *

 

 

_364 days later..._

Castiel fumbles with his navy tie, fingers shaking and breath catching in his throat. He knows exactly what’s going to be happening in the next thirty minutes- and he’s terrified. Nothing eases him as the seconds tick by, his leg bouncing up and down in his dress shoes as he eyes the clock with an unwavering stare. There’s a knock on his door, and he jumps. It’s Dean’s brother, Sam- someone who Castiel met only a few days ago before the event that’s looming over Castiel like a skyscraper- and he sighs in a small amount of relief.

“Oh thank God-” he says, voice a little uncertain, “I thought my mind was about to collapse on itself.”

Sam chuckles lightly, walking over and fixing a few minor things with Castiel’s tux before meeting his gaze, “You’ll do fine. If there’s anything I can give my brother it’s that he takes care of people he loves. I’m sure once this is over you’ll be living the fantasy life with him somewhere far from the attention of people.”

“It’s not that getting to me it’s… well it’s just I am taking a big step forward in my life in front of all these people.”

“So is he-” Sam smiles, “but you two also started making out on my TV while I was watching the New Year’s celebration. I think you two have already crossed the bridge dealing with major public   
stunts.”

Castiel gets a small amount of humor from the statement, his nerves loosening a fraction, “I suppose you’re right… I’m allowed to be nervous though, right?”

The man watches as the other snorts, “Of course you do! Everyone gets a little uneasy before the big hitch and ‘I do’, right? Just relax, take a deep breath, and I’m certain everything will be okay. As soon as your feet are at the alter- everything will be as smooth as silk from then on.”

“Thanks Sam…” Castiel hugs his to-be-brother-in-law, their bond already solid as steel since last week when they visited him in California, a large solid band around Castiel’s left ring finger.

“No problem, Cassie. I’ll be back in five minutes to get you.”

Castiel nods, watching the younger and lesser-known Winchester make their way out of the door. His fingers ball up on his knees, clutching the dark fabric between his fingers and he closes his eyes. He feels the ring press into his skin- and although it’s been on for two weeks, it still feels as though it was just placed upon his body, and when he looks down he’s still as just as surprised to find it there as he was when Dean slipped it onto his finger.

He throws his head back a little, recalling that not long ago he was running down the strip of Times Square, Dean’s face alight in the snow and confetti as they sprinted to meet each other. How it felt when Dean kissed him for the first time, the whole sensation and touches he got while they worked themselves slowly up the stairs. The first time he let Dean have sex with him on his condo’s floor and the feeling of his arms wrapping around him as they slept together for the first time as New York bustled with life outside the large windows. His heart beats a little faster, his eyes opening up to the room again as the sound of rushing steps pass his door and people muttering about random conversation starters as they wait for the session to start.

As the clock reaches eleven, he can hear the guests move into the main room, his spit becoming glue as it slides down. Castiel’s fear grows a little, making him fidget and pull on his tie- the one he met Dean Winchester with. The one he’s going to be wearing while he marries him and takes his last name as his own. Sam’s knock on the door is either a miracle or disaster- but Castiel can’t decide which is the better latter.

“You ready?”

Castiel stands, legs shaking a little as he fixes his tux again. One last look in the mirror and he’s all set. He looks, eyes taking in his attire. Castiel looks just as he normally does- except this is the last time he can ever look at himself and say his name is Castiel Novak- because in a few moments, it won’t be anymore. His blue eyes waiver for a moment, lingering on his raven hair and stubble before correcting his flower and tie one last time before speaking out.

“I am.”

Castiel loops his arm with Sam’s, his stomach churning and nervousness reaching a critical high as they step in front of the closed double doors. He waits for the moment that he’s been waiting for.

They pull back, the light nearly making him squint as the room faces his and Sam’s way. He takes in all their faces, smiling and watching as they begin to walk forward. What really takes Castiel’s breath away is Dean. He’s smiling, green eyes softened as Castiel slowly walks upwards to him, his younger brother alongside him and smiling just as widely. It seems like years, but Castiel soon finds himself stepping up to Dean, and just like Sam tells him- all of his fear and uneasiness ebb away.

The priest clears his throat, “We are gathered here today to join two people who deeply love each other. Since New Year’s is so close, I’m afraid we are going to have to paraphrase. Do you, Dean Winchester, take Castiel Novak to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

“I do. Undoubtedly.”

Castiel smiles widely as the priest continues, “Do you, Castiel Novak, take Dean Winchester to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

“I do.”

“With these last ten seconds left, I now pronounce you husband and husband. You may now kiss the groom.”

Dean smiles, the crowd counting down from five as they reach forward. Once again their lips touch with the beginning of a new year, people standing up and cheering as their mouths slot against the others. Sam is smiling, laughing even as the end song from  _The Breakfast Club_  plays through the speakers. Dean throws a fist into the air, the couple laughing as they walk out of the room that way.

Castiel looks towards Dean, their fingers intertwining and their laughs ringing into the air as they step forward. And as Castiel Winchester looks at the stars of Lawrence, Kansas above him for the first time ever- he can honestly Sam was right all along.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LOVE Y'ALL MOTHERFUCKERS. <3

**Author's Note:**

> L'or Rogue: The Red Gold
> 
> (Did you guys get some of my puns/references?) :D


End file.
